Don’t ask me how the movie was last night. I don’t know. I didn’t go. My husband and I got into an argument right before we were supposed to leave, and I decided to stay home. This is pretty rare for us. Although we do fight, it isn’t that often and we are always able to resolve it. My husband is a big stickler on “Don’t go to bed mad.” He is also very adamant about saying “goodbye” and “I love you” before parting. So for me to tell him I am not going to the movies with him and then hang up on him is a first. And he didn’t call me back. He went to the movie without me. Hmmph. You are probably wondering what prompted me to behave that way. For the most part I am pretty eay going(I try to be anyway). But there are a few things that I am obsessive about. Being late is one of them. I hate to be late. HATE it. So much so that if I find myself in a situation where I might be more than twenty minutes late, I will often opt not to go. I hate it that much. This is one issue on which my husband and I have a difference of opinion. He is chronically late. Always. I often tell him he couldn’t be on time if his life depended on it. It drives me crazy. Usually we are able to work it out. Either I will tell him we need to be somewhere a half an hour earlier than we actually need to, or we will drive separately and meet at the destination. This actually works out quite well. I get to be on time, and he gets to be late and neither one of us is annoyed. (O.K., I'll admit I still might be a teensy annoyed when he's late. But at least he didn't make me late too). That was the plan last night. We were supposed to meet at the movie theater. I was coming from home, and he was coming from the night class he was teaching. We were supposed to meet his friend and wife in front of the movie theater at seven fifteen. I was dressed and ready to walk out the door at six forty-five. I called him to see where he was and he didn't answer. I continued to call him for twenty minutes, and he still didn't answer. Finally, at seven ten he answered. And he hadn't even left yet. And he was forty minutes away. I was so mad. He told me to go ahead and meet with his friends and he would be there shortly. Uhhhh...No. I have never even met these people! I didn't even know what they looked like! What was I going to do? Walk around the front of the movie theater calling out their names? Oh, and by the way, my husband is running forty minutes late? I don't think so. So I chose to stay home. He went without me. He said he wasn't that late. I don't believe him. I'm a little miffed that he went without me. He says I over reacted. Maybe. But I hate to be late. I can't help it. We're over it now, but steam was coming out of my ears last night.